Something Worth Saving

by Sandi Ward

  Mom struggles to compose herself. “Should I go, then?” She squeezes his arm, waiting for his answer. It’s clear to me that leaving is the last thing she wants to do.

  “You don’t have to go just yet,” he offers, stroking her hair. “Stay a while.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  Humans exhaust me with their strange behavior. Sometimes they are quite fragile and vulnerable. And then other times, they are unexpectedly strong. And, often, unpredictable. I can’t always figure it out.

  I decide it’s a good time to go for my evening walk around the perimeter of the house, checking each room for spiders. I’ve had enough of this. I’ll let them talk in private.

  Later I hear Mom walking around, and I go to see what she’s up to. Mom has tiptoed upstairs to fetch blankets and a pillow, and is now on her way back down. She looks flushed and happy. So I suppose that even though she didn’t want to “wait,” Mark has said the right things to hold her over in the meantime.

  When we reach the back room, he is standing by the couch. Mom hands him what he needs, and even has an extra toothbrush at the ready, which makes him laugh.

  “Thank you,” she says, standing in front of him and handing him the pile of blankets. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. The whole family is a mess. I’m sorry you feel like you need to stay.”

  “Oh, no,” he quickly interjects. “I want to. My empty apartment won’t miss me one bit, trust me. It’s fine.”

  I’m not sure Mark feels that way at all. What I mean is: I don’t think he believes everything is “fine.” But humans will do that: At times, they say one thing when I am convinced they believe something else entirely.

  The clock in the hall chimes many times. Mom floats up to bed.

  It is so strange to me that Mark is afraid of Dad and his gun. I wish Mark knew Dad a little better. If he knew the Dad that I know, he would understand that we have nothing to fear.

  I remember the man who kicked me when I was a kitten. That was a cruel man. He cared nothing for how others felt.

  Dad is not a cruel man. He has been sick. He has been distracted, and in pain, and at times he has needed his medicine more than anything else in the world. But he is also loving, and he has taken good care of this family for a long time. He’s a hero, for goodness sake! Mark has him all wrong.

  * * *

  There is something very personal about the act of sleeping. For instance, Gretel will not cuddle and nap with me, because it puts us physically too close, and she does not feel that way about me. She protects the humans, and I am her friend who just happens to inhabit the same house.

  Gretel loves me, but she does not want that level of intimacy with me. I understand.

  But tonight, I decide to sleep awhile with Mark. Once Mom is gone, I jump up to the couch and curl into a ball by his chest. He puts his arm protectively over me.

  “Hello, baby,” he whispers to me. “Aren’t you pretty? So soft too.” I settle into a purr.

  I imagine that Mark and I are on a raft together in the middle of the river, adrift from the rest of the world. Our souls are safe here. I am glad Mark insisted on staying. And it’s not because I am afraid of Dad, or what he might do.

  I just rather like Mark. He has been a welcome presence here. I enjoy his company. I think everyone does.

  Everyone except Kevin, of course.

  Eventually I hear Mark breathing slow and steady, and I know he is almost asleep. I sit up for a moment. I am almost ready to go see Charlie. Charlie will worry if he wakes up and I am not there by his feet. Mark’s eyes click open, however, and he studies the ceiling. Looking at him, I see him turn his head back and forth, as if frustrated and looking for an answer.

  “There’s no rush,” he whispers, so quietly that I almost don’t hear it. Maybe he is talking to me. He is also reassuring himself.

  No rush? No rush to do what? To finish the bookcases?

  And then I think—

  And it occurs to me that—

  Oh ! Well, of course.

  When he sees me looking at him, Mark raises an eyebrow. He pets my head, running his knuckles over my ears.

  “Sweetheart, you’re spying on me,” he says. “Do you spy on everyone around here?”

  Why yes, I do.

  I want Mark to stop thinking about Mom for a minute and help us with Charlie. I notice Charlie’s blue headphones on the side table next to the couch—he has, once again, forgotten to put them away. I walk over and bat at the wire with my paw.

  Forget about Mom for a minute. What are you going to do to help Charlie?

  When my claw gets stuck on the wire, Mark is forced to sit up and help me get loose. “What are you doing?”

  Charlie. Remember Charlie?

  “You’re all tangled up.”

  No—let’s think about Charlie.

  “I’m sorry, sweet girl, I can’t play with you now. It’s too late.”

  Ugh! I give up.

  Mark lies back down and moves his arm to scoop me in closer. “You’re a good baby,” he tells me, nestling me to his chest. “Such a pretty baby. You’re a sweet, soft baby.” He turns onto his side, and pulls me in tight. It is very warm with his arm around me, nestled between his body and the back of the couch. And then, quietly: “I miss my baby. She was nice and warm. She was a good baby, just like you.”

  Ohhhhhh. Now I see.

  I come to realize how lonely Mark really is. How much he wants someone in his life who will accept his love. I can sense it because I have felt it many times with Charlie.

  Charlie has friends and family, but he is still lonely sometimes. He has often whispered to me that I am his best friend. He has nothing to fear from me. I never disappoint my humans.

  Humans have a very strong need to love someone. I understand why they love me. I never hurt humans with my words. I am loyal and my needs are simple. I enjoy the feel of a hand on my head and the warmth of a body against my soft fur.

  Grief is a funny thing. I believe Mark’s heartache is driving him into Mom’s arms, because he needs someone, desperately. He clings to me and I start to purr.

  Soon Mark is breathing heavily. He has fallen asleep.

  At times like this, I wish I could talk to Gretel. I think she would be able to give me more insight into Dad and his words and actions. And she might have ideas on how to help and protect Charlie. The next thing I know, I fall asleep too.

  Chapter 19

  Stupid Little Twerp Brother

  One day, Mom tells the children in the morning that she has something important to do at the school and must work late that night. Charlie sighs to hear this news. I know he prefers it when Mom comes home and Mark is around.

  He has been opening up more to Mark lately, but they only discuss small matters. They chat about things like:

  1. Cooking. Charlie asks Mark if he can teach him how to make French toast. Charlie loves breakfast foods. Anything with maple syrup.

  2. Charlie’s science teacher. He admires Mr. Carver! Charlie says Mr. Carver makes the world sound interesting.

  3. Songs on the radio. Mark likes old stuff, and Charlie likes bands Mark has never heard of.

  I think it is progress. A little at a time.

  Charlie, Victoria, and Aidan all arrive home from school at the same time. Charlie hooks Gretel up to her leash and immediately takes her for a walk. He is probably trying to avoid Aidan, but perhaps he is also hoping to run into his new friend Ronaldo on the street.

  Gretel is considered a striking dog. She is large and impressive. Humans like to show her off.

  That’s all it is.

  It’s no problem. I’m not jealous one bit. I know who Charlie loves best.

  I heard Victoria tease Charlie at the kitchen table one night as they were doing their homework. She said she’d seen him with Ronaldo in the lunchroom at school. He shrugged it off. She then said she’d also seen Charlie with Ronaldo at his l
ocker, laughing about something. So it sounds like Charlie really does have a new friend. He smiled when Victoria mentioned it, shaking his head as if it was not important. But Charlie can be quiet and shy, so I know that this is a big deal. I’m proud of him!

  After Charlie leaves, Victoria and Aidan shrug off their spring coats and grab a drink in the kitchen. Aidan chugs down half a can of soda as if he’s dying of thirst.

  Victoria tells Aidan that Kevin had to stay after school for math team. And then she asks Aidan if he wants to go up to her bedroom.

  I watch him hesitate. And then say okay.

  I follow, my heart contracting in anger. My long fur stands on end. Aidan is not allowed upstairs! For goodness sake! I cannot believe Victoria is breaking the rules again.

  I skitter into the bedroom just as Victoria is closing the door. She waits for my long tail to float behind me and out of harm’s way before shutting the door with a click.

  “You’re letting your psycho cat in here with us?” Aidan asks, sitting on her pink bedspread. “Your cat hates me. Just like your dad hates me.” He pauses, staring out at the light gray of the sky beyond the treetops. “I guess your brothers hate me too. Wow. I hadn’t really realized how much your entire family hates me until this moment.”

  Well! Whose fault is that?

  I give him a scowl. He sees me and frowns.

  Victoria stands across the room, looking absentmindedly at the knickknacks on her bureau. Picking one up. Putting it down. “You know, if you ever invited me to your house, we could hang out there instead.” I hear a tinge of frustration in her voice.

  “Vicky.” He turns to look at her. “You don’t want to go to my house. I know you don’t believe me. But trust me, you don’t. It’s not nice, like your house.”

  Well. I wasn’t under the impression that our cottage was anything special. There’s dust in the corners, mold in the bathroom, and rugs that sometimes feel damp under my paws.

  I suppose, however, we do have plenty of cozy spots. Aidan seems to think the green couch downstairs is his special place, the same way I think of Charlie’s bed as my favorite place to curl up. But he shouldn’t feel that way. This isn’t his house to lay claim to.

  I rub up against Victoria’s leg, and then turn and give a sharp hiss! at Aidan. I don’t want Victoria to forget what he did.

  That is, I don’t want her to forget that I pretended he hurt me.

  His eyes open wide. “You see?” He points at me. “I didn’t do anything to her. That thing is evil.”

  “She’s not evil.” Victoria spins and takes a step closer to him. “But maybe she’s scared of you. You did hurt her the other day. You probably stepped on her tail. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but you did.” When Aidan makes a face at her, she gasps. “Why are you such an asshole? I also asked you to talk to people at school and find out who is bullying Charlie. You want to know what Tasha said when I talked to her about it? Do you seriously want to know?”

  “No,” he says, “But I can see you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  “She said—she said maybe you’re the one bullying Charlie. And you know what? I realized you’ve never been that nice to him. It kinda makes sense.” She shakes her head. “It’s not you, is it?”

  At first, Aidan doesn’t move as her question sinks in. Apparently he didn’t see this question coming, because he truly seems to have no idea how to respond.

  He springs up off the bed and starts pacing in a circle around Victoria’s small room. His sneakers barely make a sound on the rug.

  “You’re serious?” He doesn’t stop moving, shaking out his hands by his sides. “You’re serious. You are seriously asking me that. Wow.”

  “Aidan . . .” One of Victoria’s small braids falls across her cheek, and she grabs it and pulls on it. Her voice softens a bit as she sees his reaction, the way he has suddenly become agitated. “I just don’t know what to think. You’re not very nice to Charlie.”

  Aidan shakes his head violently, as if he doesn’t want to hear it. “I’m not nice to my little sister either. Just like my older brother isn’t nice to me. That’s how it works, isn’t it? The circle of life? What goes around, comes around?”

  Victoria watches him, eyes wide.

  Back and forth he walks, from window to wall, and back again. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not nice to anyone. Except to you.” Now he finally stops and turns on her, his voice shaking with anger. “I love you. Do you hear me? Do you?” His voice gets louder and more passionate as he goes on: “JESUS CHRIST, Vicky. How can you even think I would do that to Charlie? I would crawl on my hands and knees on broken glass for you. And you know it. YOU KNOW IT.” He balls his hands into fists by his sides.

  Victoria tips her head to one side, watching him. She reminds me of myself, when I’m perched on the bookcase and I’m fascinated by a strange bird I see outside the window. Just taking it all in.

  “You’re one of the few people on earth who can stand me, Vic. Not many people can. This works. We work. Why would I mess that up? Why would I hurt Charlie? What in the hell would I do that for? What would my motivation be, exactly?”

  Victoria turns away from the intensity of his outburst, and breezes past him to take a seat on her bed. I jump up and climb into Victoria’s lap. I want to shield her from Aidan, but she doesn’t seem scared. Her hand is steady as she scratches my head. “Aidan. Don’t get so worked up. Come on. I was just asking you a question.”

  He stares at her, looking wounded. “Yeah. So now I realize you don’t trust me.”

  “Aidan.”

  “What?” He throws up his hands. “You don’t, Vicky. You obviously don’t.” He takes in a deep, shaky breath. “Wow. You’re the one person I thought who . . .”

  “Who what?”

  “Never mind.” He chews on his lip, and walks over to the window. The clouds lay low out over the river. The whole day is washed in a wet haze. His eyes, half-open, scan the marsh. Voice quieter, Aidan goes on: “You’re the one person in the world who I thought actually liked me, that’s all.” He turns his head slightly toward Victoria, but looks down at the pink shaggy rug under his feet. Waiting for her reply. Needing to hear it.

  “I do like you.” She puts the end of one of her little braids in her mouth again and starts chewing on it. “I’ve always liked you.”

  “I hope that’s true. I don’t know what I’d do if that wasn’t true.” Aidan raises his hand and runs it through his hair. He suddenly looks tired. “Why though? Why do you like me?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a serious question, Vic. Why do you like me? I mean . . . when exactly did it suddenly occur to you that you liked me?”

  Hmmph! I would like to hear the answer to this question too.

  Victoria takes her braid and throws it behind her shoulder. “I dunno.” She rubs her hands together as if wiping off sand. “Maybe it was when I noticed you’re the only one who laughs at all of my stupid jokes in history class, no matter how bad they are. Or maybe it was because you always write goofy little drawings on my notebooks.” She leans back on her hands. “Or maybe I noticed you when you started wearing your bathing suit to gym class—you know, the board shorts? It was kinda quirky. And cute.”

  Aidan rolls his eyes. “Oh my God. That’s pathetic.” He snorts. “As if that was by choice. I had nothing else to wear because our washing machine died.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing it did. Because that caught my eye. Your amazingly hot blue bathing suit.”

  I glance up at Victoria, as I am still sitting in her lap. When I wink at her, she winks back and grins.

  Lifting his head to look at her, Aidan sighs. Her smile seems to calm him down. I watch as his shoulders relax a little, and he tips his head back for a moment and breathes in again. I can almost see his anger wash off him, melting away.

  “Vicky. Listen. It’s not me. I’m not the one hurting your brother. But I have a suggestion for who it might be. I’m sorry to bring this up
. There’s only one person who ever bruised me like that. Like the way you see with Charlie. I didn’t want to say anything before. But if I were you, I’d know who did that to Charlie.”

  Victoria’s hand, which was gently combing my fur with her fingers, stops suddenly. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Aidan shoves his hands in his pockets. “There’s only one person who would do that in my family. Maybe you should take a closer look at yours.”

  Her eyes light up, as she realizes what he is implying.

  “I’m sorry, Vic. But you know your dad is as high as a kite most of the time, right? I mean, you never talk about it. But you’re aware of that, aren’t you? He’s either drinking a lot or taking too much of that Valium.” He shakes his head. “Possibly both. Or maybe he’s hooked on something stronger.”

  “Aidan.” Her voice is suddenly hard and angry. “That’s not true. I know you don’t like him but—”

  “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

  “See what? There’s nothing to see. He’s tired. And really stressed out.” Her hands sink deeper into my fur, and she clutches at my sides. I tense up, prepared for her to move or stand.

  With a sudden move, Aidan swiftly turns and sits down right next to Victoria on the bed. I jump up, frightened.

  I’ve never liked to get too close to Aidan. And his movements today are startling me.

  He slips his arms around Victoria’s waist, and she immediately turns to him and puts her hands on his neck. He pulls her down onto the bed so they are lying down.

  “Forget it. Forget I said anything. Oh God,” he mumbles into her hair. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Vic. Or your stupid little twerp brother.”

  “Okay.” She strokes his head. “Okay. Chill out. I believe you.” She kisses his cheek. “But you need to be nicer to Charlie. Promise me you will be.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I promise. I told you. I love you.”

  I watch the two of them nestle together and comfort each other, from the edge of the bed. My little heart squeezes in my chest. I jump down onto the rug and walk to the opposite side of the room.